Masks, Part 11:
Inner Space
by Kim McFarland

"You got to have a dream,
If you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?"

- Happy Talk from South Pacific

Somewhere in the world it was a dark and stormy night. But not here; it was a warm, calm evening, in contrast to the chaotic day of rehearsal at the Muppet Theater. It was the first day of rehearsals, and they had found and worked out the worst of the bugs, and kept the ones that looked entertaining and wouldn't cause too much damage.

A door creaked open on a basement apartment. Janken and Scooter entered, and Janken flipped on the light. It was a one-room affair, with support pillars bisecting the room and exposed water pipes along one wall. There was a sofa, a small refrigerator, a hot plate, and a sink, and not much else in the way of amenities. Several boxes along the wall contained clothing and a few other possessions.

Janken remarked, "Kind of cavelike, I suppose."

"Spartan, maybe," Scooter replied.

Janken nodded. "I hadn't thought of it like that, but yeah. Actually, I like it. Anyway, I don't spend a lot of time here because it's so quiet. I'd rather be around people. But it's great when I have to study."

Janken was chattering nervously, as if he had to apologize for this place to Scooter. "It's fine, really. If I had to, I'd rather stay in a place like this than a dorm."

"Yeah. Tea?"

"Sure."

Janken said as he filled a pot and set it on the hot plate, "I've never had visitors, so I don't have any coffee. I can't drink that stuff. I don't like the taste and it makes me jittery."

"Have you already had some? You seem kind of jittery now."

Janken looked sheepish. "Sorry, I guess I am. Wasn't I the one telling you not to worry?"

Somehow, seeing Janken flustered made scooter feel a little better. "Yeah. It's OK."

"Yeah." Janken looked at Scooter for a few moments, then turned away and went to a box. He pulled out some short, clear rods that looked like glue sticks and said, "Have you had these before?"

Scooter took one and looked at it. "What is it?"

"It's snack food from where I come from." He bit into it.

Scooter tried his. It had a strange, peppery flavor, startling at first but not unpleasant, and a crunchy texture. "Huh! I know I've never had these, but I think I've tasted something like this before."

"You probably have." Janken tapped some powder out of a packet of folded paper into a pair of earthenware cups, then poured hot water in. After stirring them, Janken offered one to Scooter.

It was sweet and pleasant, again with a flavor Scooter could not name. "This came from your home too?" he guessed.

"Yeah. It relaxes me whenever I feel nervous. Kind of like anti-caffiene. This and these sticks are my comfort food," Janken told him. "I've got quite a tea collection. One of my fathers makes them, and he always gives me a bunch whenever I come and visit, especially medicinal ones. He worries I'm going to get sick and die out here. Heh."

"One of your fathers?"

Janken paused, then said, "Technically he'd be my uncle. By our standards, anyway. Out here I don't know what I'd call him."

"That sounds complicated," Scooter said. 'Father' and 'uncle' were pretty clear concepts; how could you confuse one for the other?

Janken said, "Actually, it's simple. It'd be easier to show you than to tell you."

"How'd you do that?" Scooter asked. Janken had relaxed, he noticed.

"We'd have to be asleep together." At Scooter's startled expression he quickly added, "As in, to sleep, perchance to dream. Not as in an euphemism for anything else."

Looking into his teacup, which sat warm and heavy in his hands, Scooter said, "Janken, I trust you... but it'd be a lot easier if you'd just tell me what you have in mind instead of what you don't!"

"I know, I know," Janken said. "But if I do, well, it'll sound flaky. Look, all you have to do is go to sleep with your head touching mine. I'll do the rest. If it works you'll know, and if it doesn't, you'll just sleep, and I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know in the morning."

"This still sounds strange."

"Stranger than what you see in the theater every week?"

"Or at the house," Scooter responded with a wry smile. "You got me there. Okay, I'll give it a try."

"Thanks," Janken said. He drank the rest of his tea, put the cup down, then told him, "Like I told you before, Scoot, I won't ever try to push you into something you don't want to do. Or, well, that I'm not ready for either."

Scooter nodded, not knowing what to say.

Janken continued, "You know what first attracted me to you?"

"Don't say my eyes."

Janken chuckled. "No, your smile. You've got a grin like everything's going great. I like the way you look anyway, but when you smile like that, wow. I hope I'll always be able to see that smile."

Scooter felt his face warm, and knew he was blushing. "Thanks."

Janken wanted to take Scooter's hands, but they were still occupied by the teacup. So he said, "Maybe I should just shut up now so we can try this."

Scooter nodded and drank the rest of the tea now that it was merely warm. It tasted better that way. "That's good."

"I have plenty." He rinsed the cups out and set them upside down to dry, then turned off the hot plate. "We can sleep head to head on the couch. It's big enough, and comfortable. I usually sleep there anyway."

The couch was built to human scale, so it could easily accommodate them. They got onto it, and Janken reached out and flipped the light switch with his tail. Then he said softly, "Dream a dream and see what a dream can be."

Scooter wanted to say This is weird, but he didn't. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Scooter found himself inside a cave. The air was fresh and cool, and though there were no lights, he could see quite easily. Janken met him. "There you are. I've been waiting."

"Where are we?" Scooter asked.

"In my dream, remember? It must have taken you a little while to fall asleep. I'm out as soon as I turn off the light." Janken beckoned. "Follow me, I know the way."

Scooter thought, Of course he would. It's his dream. And I can't believe I just thought that.

Janken said, "I wasn't sure this was going to work. But I had a feeling it just might, with you."

"I might just be dreaming this, though," Scooter replied.

Janken turned to him. "You aren't, but it's okay if you don't believe me yet. Just come with me for now. You'll see." He beckoned. "C'mon, this way!" Janken turned and ran down the tunnel.

Scooter ran after him. Janken's tail, a barometer for his mood, waved like a flag as he raced through the caves, past rushing streams and through large, open galleries. He jumped up to a shelf, then skimmed up a ramp of gours like stacked coins. Scooter was surprised that he had no problem following him—but, he reminded himself, this was a dream.

After a while Janken stopped, barely breathing hard, his tail quivering with excitement. "Do you hear that?"

Scooter listened. "Other people."

"My home." Janken nodded toward the end of the tunnel.

They went to the end of the tunnel and looked in on a large gallery. The walls were decorated with flowers and small paintings. A horn like a giant stone bugle was mounted on one side. In the center was a clear pool of water. Smaller rooms and other passages branched off on every side, and a chimney let a spotlight of sun shine into the pool. The rock floor was uneven, but worn smooth by the passage of countless feet. Scooter could still hear the voices close by, though they were alone, and even the splashing of the water though it was still.

Scooter asked, "Aren't there others like you?"

"Lots of them. We call ourselves Fraggles," Janken answered. "This is the tough part... I can show them to you, but you can't meet them. This is a dream, so it wouldn't be for real."

"Go ahead. Just hearing them without seeing them is spooky."

"Okay. Give me a moment." Janken gazed at the pool. Several creatures appeared in it, splashing as energetically as if they had been there all along. Another few appeared by the side. Scooter watched as Janken glanced around the room, populating it a few at a time.

They walked in. The Fraggle images talked and swam and played and goofed around, but did not react to Scooter and Janken. They were all similar to Janken, though they were different sizes and colors. Some wore clothing, and when Scooter looked closer he could see individual differences in their faces. He said, "Wow. This is like watching a movie from inside."

"It is, isn't it? I'll have to remember that." Janken leaned against a rock wall. "I never thought of showing you this place before, but after seeing where you live, I thought you might understand."

Scooter did not answer immediately. He realized that the eerie sensation of being in another's dream had faded. In its place he felt warmth and joy as if it was in the air. He looked at Janken, and saw its mirror in his expression. Scooter said softly, "It's kind of like the boarding house, isn't it? Crazy and noisy and full of the people you love."

Janken nodded, smiling widely. "You do understand."

They watched the scene for a little longer. Then Janken pointed at the group at and in the pool. "Those seven at the pool, those are my family."

They walked closer. Two adults, a yellow and a green one, were swimming, with two children, one brown and the other green. The ones outside the pool were pink, green, and orange. Scooter noticed that the tallest one looked like Janken. He was not sure of the gender at first, but then she spoke in a light soprano. "Is she your mother?"

"That's right. As for my father, heh, that's kind of a funny story. When I was born I looked like my mother, and they couldn't tell which one was my father for years. That's why I call them all my fathers. When we finally figured out who my sire was, I didn't feel like demoting the other two to 'uncle'."

"Which one is your father?"

"Go on, guess."

Scooter looked at the three who spoke with male voices. "I can't tell."

Janken tapped his nose. Scooter looked at the others for a moment before the green one in the pool turned his head, and Scooter saw his profile. "Him?"

"Yep. When I was little, I looked like a generic Fraggle kid. When I grew and got this nose, well, mystery solved. In fact, that's how I was named. In our ancient language, 'Janken' means 'stone, water, wind.' It's a game. Like rock, paper, scissors for cave dwellers. Stone diverts wind, wind evaporates water, water wears down rock. It's something you do when you just can't decide, get it?"

"Yeah," Scooter said. "Um, how does it work? Your family?"

Janken replied soberly, "That's hard to explain. Not because it's complicated, but because it's so simple. We're a small... tribe, or village, or whatever, by your standards. We don't have much in the way of rules about families. Some people pair off, some stay alone, some gather in larger groups. The custom we follow is basically 'whatever works.' In my family's case, they had grown together for so long they weren't just friends, they were more like family. So when it came time to play 'pass it on' with their genes, they kept the status quo. After all, if it's not broken, why fix it?" He smiled. "I had a very eventful, happy childhood, surrounded by people who loved me, and I inherited something from each of them, genes or no."

They stood and watched the images of Janken's family. The ones in the pool were teaching the youngsters—Scooter guessed that they were about nine and four years old—some swimming strokes. The older one was copying the yellow one, and the younger one was dog-paddling valiantly, watched over by the green one.

After a while Janken sighed. "Seeing this cave, even only in a dream, makes me homesick. I visit a few times a year, and I write home all the time. The next time I come home will be in winter, for the solstice." He looked at Scooter. "I'd invite you to come along, but it gets really cold. Even with our fur we have a hard time of it. You'd freeze."

"Do you think they'd mind?"

The images of the other Fraggles blurred, like a film going out of focus, and the sounds faded. Janken started walking toward the exit. "We don't get a lot of surface dwellers down here, but it's happened before. It'd be okay."

"No, I mean, because we're..."

Janken looked at him. "What? Oh, nah, they know about me, and it's not such a big deal anyway. They'd be surprised that I've taken up with a surface dweller, but they'd get to like you. I know they would, because I wouldn't fall in love with a creep."

Wryly Scooter replied, "Gee, thanks, I think."

"Oh, you know what I mean. There's a lot more I could show you, but this is enough for one day."

Together they walked back to the place where they started, and the dream ended.

Scooter's eyes opened. He felt Janken move. "Janken?" he whispered.

"Yes?" was the soft reply.

"Did you just have a dream...?"

"Rock, paper, scissors..."

"Stone, water, wind?"

"Yes."

"How did you do that?"

"It's something my kind can all do. But it's never been done with anyone not of our kind. I wasn't sure it was possible."

"Wow," Scooter murmured.

"Yeah."

Scooter felt Janken move. The Fraggle kissed him lightly on the forehead, then lay back down, his head no longer touching Scooter's "Good night."

"Good night."

They closed their eyes, and within minutes were asleep again, separately and together.

All characters except Janken are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. Fraggle Rock is copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Happy Talk is by Rodgers and Hammerstein. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.